


Scorched in His Head (Each Haggard Eye)

by ZephyrLegend



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Masturbation, Shame!kink, Shameless Smut, discord prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 04:40:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13228266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZephyrLegend/pseuds/ZephyrLegend
Summary: Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in… the image of her heart shaped face flashed into his mind, her tongue darting out to wet her soft pink lips, the shine glinting by firelight.





	Scorched in His Head (Each Haggard Eye)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darkcamaro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkcamaro/gifts).



> My first foray into smut ty fanfic has been a fun adventure! This was a prompt issued to me by the ladies on Discord. Many thanks to my beta, MissFable for letting me run away with my imagination.
> 
> Work title comes from a poem "The Three Voices" by Lewis Carol.

In the nearly two weeks that it had been since the First Order’s ill-fated attack on Crait, Kylo Ren hadn't slept much. What little sleep he had gotten was sporadic at best, between various crises cropping up, the sudden and rough change in top-level command and, perhaps most importantly, the well placed paranoia any reasonably sane person would harbor when your second in command is Armitage Hux.

 

That said, the upside to all of this (that he hadn't realized until  _ far _ too late) was that his poor sleep left little room for dreaming. 

 

On the first night that he could be reasonably assured of a slumber reminiscent of normal human standards, he thoughtlessly collapsed into his bed, taking only a moment to savor the feeling of allowing his body to finally relax, before succumbing to sleep.

 

He really ought to have known that the Force, not unlike his former dark side master,  _ never _ forgets when you derail it's master plan.

 

He is nearly immediately sucked into a memory: that night with Rey, when she had laid bare her deepest insecurities. He had been utterly dumbfounded and deeply touched that she had shared so much of herself with  _ him,  _ her erstwhile enemy _. _ She had not even shared so much with Skywalker. 

 

When she had reached out her hand, he had been inexplicably drawn to reach out himself. Unable to bear the thought of a barrier between them, he had removed his glove and, ever so gently, touched her waiting hand. 

 

The feeling in that moment was indescribable. What had been a thrumming pulse, ever present in the back of his mind, was brought to the forefront of his senses. The force hummed with vitality around them, voicing it's pleasure. Visions flickered in his mind, visions of her standing beside him during a moment of triumph. He had known then, without a doubt, that she would be his.

 

Looking deeply into her hazel eyes, he felt his soul touch hers in a way that he never imagined his soul could touch another person. It was simultaneously fulfilling and utterly foreign, all at once. It was as though he had been blind all his life and could now suddenly  _ see. _

 

His heart quickened in his chest, as he focused on the feel of her palm under his fingertips. He found that he didn't mind that they were calloused from her years of hard labor. It was just another sign of her deep well of fortitude and strength, for which he had grown so desperately fond. 

 

The feel of her skin on his was both too much and not enough. He was a parched man dying of thirst and it was a trickle of cool water on his lips. He hadn't felt the touch of another person in  _ years _ . He found he couldn't remember the last time he had been touched with so much affection.

 

The shuddering gasp that she let out immediately shot to his groin in a feeling perhaps equally as far removed from his life. His breath was caught in his throat, as the overwhelming feeling of  _ want _ threaded through their connection, and was echoed back.

 

This was right around the moment when Skywalker would burst in, like a vengeful spirit, effectively dowsing him in cold water and snapping the connection. But that's not what would happen in his dream.

 

In his dream, he fully takes her hand in his and without breaking eye contact, leans forward and gently brushes his lips against her knuckles. The strangled moan she offers him sets his senses ablaze, and his heart feels like it is going to beat out of his chest. 

 

For a moment there is stillness as they stare at one another, chests heaving with stuttering breaths, hearts beating furiously and the force singing all around them. Then, with a snap, the spell is broken and they rise to their feet, mouths crashing together like waves crashing against the shore. 

 

If the feel of her hand against his was exquisite, then the feel of her lips against his was  _ transcendent. _

 

What they lacked in experience, they made up for in passion. They continued to kiss desperately as though they might never get another opportunity. He wrapped her firmly in his arms and she threaded her hands into his hair. The sensation of her fingernails on his scalp tore a breathy moan from his chest. 

 

He let go of her lips and instead focused on kissing a line down her throat and when he reached her pulse point she gasped, “Ben!” 

 

The sound of his name on her lips, in his ear, was a cold dose of reality, and he was torn from his dream. His eyes snapped open, and he was immediately aware of two things: First, he was in his chambers, cold and dark as they were, no sign of any stone huts bathed in firelight. Second, he was unbelievably, blindingly, achingly  _ hard _ . 

 

There was a wet spot on his sleep pants near the tip: evidence for how incredibly aroused he was. He hadn't been this hard since he was a teenager. He rubbed a hand down his face and attempted some breathing exercises he had used over the years in similar situations. He had long ago mastered his bodily reactions, he would do the same now. He closed his eyes.

 

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in… the image of her heart shaped face flashed into his mind, her tongue darting out to wet her soft pink lips, the shine glinting by firelight.

 

He was ripped from his meditative exercise by an aching throb in his groin. He groaned and clutched his sheets. This...this was bad, but it was nothing he couldn't get a handle on. Perhaps if he simply ignored it?

 

He tried counting the rivets in the ceiling and he got to 125 before this too proved ineffective, as the pulsing ache in his member reminded him insistently of its presence with every heartbeat.

 

He let out frustrated growl and punched his matress. He would  _ control himself. _ He  _ would _ control himself. He tried changing positions, shifting on to his side, but this too proved to be a mistake. He felt himself rub against the rough fabric of his sleep pants and the resulting flash of pleasure shot through him like a blaster bolt. He let out a gasp and clutched his sheets in a white knuckle grip. 

 

Desperate for any distraction at all, he tried to think about how he was going to deal with the snivelling Hux. He had humiliated Kylo one too many times, not the least of which was when he had sneered at him for losing to an inexperienced  _ girl _ . But Hux hadn't seen the raw power that she had wielded, as she prowled around him in the snow, her chest heaving, straining the fabric of her shirt with her small but supple breasts…

 

With a desperate whine, he instinctively bucked his hips to give him something,  _ anything _ to press against. He pressed his fist against his bulge and willed himself not to move, in a pathetic attempt to ease the pressure. On the feel of the steel rod in his pants, he found he had to reassess his earlier assertion: he'd never been this hard in his  _ life. _

 

He couldn't recall ever being so aroused as he was in this moment. Not even when she had force pulled his own saber from his belt and tore at Snoke with wild abandon. She had been so glorious, with her face lit up in red, snarling at his tormentor with absolute certainty that he had underestimated them both. 

 

Without even fully realizing what he was doing, he began stroking himself through his pants. She had been the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. Her hair, wild from her efforts to save him, framing her delicate face. Wide, fathomless eyes, gazing at him with absolute trust. No one had ever trusted him so implicitly. He groaned and bucked into his hand, continuing his ministrations furiously.

 

The feel of her, at his back, he protecting her, she protecting him, her hand grazing his thigh as she fought...So close,  _ so close… _

 

No! With an agonized moan he tore his hand away. He couldn't, he couldn't… 

 

Chest heaving, face flushed, he felt betrayed by his own body. He was utterly ashamed of the depths of his desire. 

 

He recalled when he had first joined Snoke, how he had been criticized for his lack of self control of carnal desires. “How can you expect to learn to control the Force if you cannot even control  _ your own filthy urges!” _ Tears leaked from his eyes as he fought with himself, the pulsing, throbbing ache in his loins adding salt to his wound.

 

With a strangled growl he tore off his blankets and efficiently pulled off his sleep pants. His leaking cock, flush and engorged, staring at him as though he had personally affronted it. 

 

That's when he felt it, in the back of his mind. A whisper of feelings that weren't his: disgust, revulsion, indignance.  _ She knew exactly what he was doing.  _ Despite his embarrassment and shame, the feeling of her mind in his proved to be too much for his fragile self-control. 

 

With a moan, he gripped his aching cock and began furiously pumping himself with abandon. His earlier dream flashed in his mind, oh how he would have loved to see it through. The feel of her bare breasts under his palms, her hands running themselves over his naked chest, tangled together in the sheets, a primal dance far more ancient than even the Force…

 

Without warning, as though his body was afraid he may renege again, he came harder than he'd ever experienced. Pulsing pleasure tore through him, white hot, blazing behind his eyes. A roar barreling out of his chest, as thick white ropes splattered on his hand and chest. Grunting, he continued to pump as he rode out his orgasm, milking himself to the last. 

 

As he came down, and his breathing slowed, tears pooled in his eyes. Shame overcame him as he cried himself to sleep.


End file.
